THE STORY CONTINUES...

That grumpy bugger - Doc Martin - is back for a fifth series in 2011. The story picks up after the birth of Martin and Louisa's son. Will Martin return to his post as Portwenn's GP? Will fatherhood help the Doc to mellow? Will he and Louisa play happy families? Of course not! The road to happiness will no doubt be fraught with an array of delightfully entertaining challenges.

The Doc Martin Series 5 Blog follows the progress of Series 5 from filming to post-episode dissection, and everything in between. It will endeavour to keep you up-to-date with all that's happening in and around Portwenn.

Your contributions to the site are welcomed, encouraged and essential. If you have information, tips, photos, a story to tell or a question to ask, don't hesitate to shoot me off an email, or post a comment. The Doc is in!

e-mail - grumble_2@hotmail.com

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Monday, May 2, 2011

We will remember them...

Death was of very little consequence to the dead. He knew this. To the living, however, the effect of death was far more profound and far reaching. No matter how hard he tried to blot out the memories, years of experience has taught him this lesson.

He was not a man of God. He was a man of science. As he sat in the church pew, however, a sanctuary of calm in a world beyond his control, he prayed. He prayed, not for the soul which was lost to this world, but for all the souls that were left behind.

He knew she was there with him before he heard her and before he saw her. He felt her. She didn’t sit, but stood beside him.

“What are you doing?” she queried quietly, not trusting her interpretation of the scene before her. She wasn’t used to seeing him like this – unguarded.

He answered her with a look that conveyed the magnitude of his plight. His regret. His need for redemption. His need to make things right.

“You did all you could.”

“I could have done more.”

“No. Not this time.”

“I could have done more,” he stated more forcefully.

She rested a hand on his shoulder. The other arm cradled their sleeping son.

Too late he lifted his gaze to meet hers, as she turned, slipping her hand from his shoulder. He reached out for her, catching the loose hanging belt of her coat. It slipped through his fingers as she walked away, just like life slipped through his fingers.

The last vestiges of day slipped away too. Dust danced in the fragmented light that fell through the high church windows.

Evening came, just as morning would come.

5 comments:

  1. This is lovely and so sad at the same time :)

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  2. this is beautiful and so saaaaaaaaaad!!!

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  3. Beautifully written and touching

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  4. Very sad =( and beautiful as well

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  5. Love the emotion, so sad it will be a great blow to DM:-(

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